Litir ó Mheiriceá –  Ag Lúbadh na Rialacha ar Muir

Letter from America – Bending the Rules at Sea

In the azure depths of the southern Caribbean, far from the prying eyes of the public, a fundamental change occurred in the United States’ approach regarding drug smugglers at sea.

On September 2nd, the US military struck its first lethal air strike against a boat suspected of smuggling drugs. A significant new directive was involved: Kill smugglers at sea instead of arresting them. This is not how the rules worked in the past, and a storm of controversy has been whipped up about this in Washington D.C. currently.

The Target

Intelligence reports linked the boat to the Tren de Aragua, a Venezuelan gang recently designated by the US government as a Foreign Terrorist Organization. According to every previous government, it was the US Coast Guard that would deal with a boat like this. They would fire a warning shot across the bow before boarding. They would arrest the smugglers, seize the evidence, and the accused would face trial in a court of law.

But with "Operation Southern Spear," the rules were rewritten. According to the government, led by President Donald Trump and Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, drug smuggling is equivalent to an armed invasion, which justifies a military response rather than a law enforcement one.

The First Strike

The operation began with a precision attack. A guided missile struck the vessel in its center to break the hull and detonate the boat's fuel stores. That explosion smashed the fiberglass structure to smithereens, and nine of the eleven men on board were killed instantly.

The destroyed boat capsized. Debris and bales of cocaine were scattered on the water. Immediately after that, surveillance drones flew over the scene transmitting live video back to command centers in Florida and the Pentagon. The footage revealed an unexpected problem: two survivors.

Shirtless and unarmed, the two men managed to climb onto a floating section of the keel. They were adrift in remote international waters, their vessel destroyed and their comrades dead. They were defenseless and helpless.

The Second Strike

Soldiers who are hors de combat—those removed from the fight due to injury or shipwreck—have protection under the Geneva Conventions. Under the terms of the Conventions, there is a duty to rescue them if possible, and it is not permitted to kill them.

Despite this, the operation commander, Navy Admiral Frank "Mitch" Bradley, ordered a second strike to hit the debris where the two were sheltering.

It was reported that drone video showed the two survivors waving their hands beforehand. The interpretation of this signaling would be the basis for a heated political battle later. According to Democratic lawmakers and human rights observers who saw the video, it was clear the men were in distress, making signs of surrender or rescue. They had no radio, no weapons, and no means of movement.

For the government and its defenders, however, the hand waving was interpreted differently. Senator Tom Cotton and military officials claimed the men were signaling to cartel boats in the area, and therefore they were still fighting and trying to salvage the illicit cargo. It was reported that Admiral Bradley assessed that the debris, which possibly still contained cocaine, was a valid military target for destruction.

In any event, on the admiral's orders, a second series of munitions struck the debris. The two survivors were killed instantly.

Legal and Ethical Controversy

"The term we have for a premeditated act like that outside of armed conflict is murder," said Brian Finucane, a former State Department lawyer, in an interview after the incident. "It is patently illegal to kill a person who has suffered a shipwreck."

The government's defense relied on the targets. By designating the crew as "narco-terrorists," the Pentagon claimed that those smugglers were unlawful enemy combatants who posed a continuous threat to US national security. Secretary of Defense Hegseth defended the decision strongly, saying: "If you bring drugs to this country in a boat, we will find you and we will sink you."

But for over a hundred years, since the US made its first opium seizure at sea in 1886, dealing with drugs smuggled at sea was a policing act, not a military one. People were innocent until proven guilty; evidence was gathered; trials were held. But in this case, Hellfire missile attacks replaced due process of law.

The Consequences

In the months that followed this incident, US forces carried out over 20 other attacks like this, killing more than 80 people. Among them were Colombians, Venezuelans, and citizens of Trinidad and Tobago. Although the US claimed they were all terrorists, families of the dead said they were poor fishermen forced to engage in smuggling—temporary workers who had no knowledge of the wider geopolitical war.

A major problem was also the lack of transparency. The names of the dead were not released initially. No bodies were recovered for post-mortem examination. The "evidence" went to the bottom of the Caribbean Sea.

In Washington, investigations began, demanding to find out if an illegal order like "kill them all" had been issued. Although Admiral Bradley testified that he received no such explicit order from Pete Hegseth, at the same time, he himself ordered the second strike. That indicates the kind of culture involved in Operation Southern Spear.

A New Era of Warfare?

What happened on September 2, 2025, serves as a grim milestone in American foreign policy. That is the day the US ignored the Geneva Conventions by killing defenseless survivors.

That horrific behavior also raises uncomfortable questions: Can a government unilaterally declare that criminals are soldiers? And if so, do they then have the right to kill them without due process, especially those who are hors de combat? What is the Geneva Convention worth if it is ignored?

Congressional hearings and lawsuits will take place to deal with this horrific incident and to answer those questions. Although it is presumably clear to us all what the right answers are, will the US government share that view—a government under the control of President Trump, who has absolutely no respect for national or international rules?

 

Ar Sciatháin Túis Nua

The Wings of a New Beginning

“Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

  • Inscription on the Statue of Liberty, New York.

We should all, especially the President and government of the United States of America (USA), always keep those important words in mind. Currently, however, the government is ignoring them. For example, ICE (immigration law enforcement agency) and the National Guard (military force) are mistreating many people in the country, including citizens. We all saw the recordings: masked men jump out of a van and grab people from the street, and some of them are never seen again because they are placed in a detention centre somewhere. We must tackle such behaviour and restore our core principles.

The following true and historical story demonstrates the values of the USA as they were and as they should be again.

Thanks to Nancy Kramer (an American living in Julian, San Diego, in the United States) for sharing her own story with us. She is an inspiration and a role model for us, as we too can be true to our word. Here is the question for us who live in democratic countries: What can I do today to improve our country and ensure fair play for everyone currently here, regardless of the colour of their skin or their religion.

The Wings of a New Beginning by Nancy Kramer

As a Pan Am flight attendant, I've seen all kinds of passengers—many memorable Hollywood stars, popular bands, government officials—and I've even helped with onboard marriage proposals. However, my favorite flights were those on which we boarded groups of refugees in Manila and Bangkok.

In our crew briefing, we were informed that the back part of our airplane would be filled with refugees, organized by the U.S. government and resettlement agencies like the IRC. We were advised to expect passengers with limited English who might need help with basics like seat belts and lavatories.

As the bus doors opened at the foot of our 747, families stepped out, blinking into the sun, mothers gripping small hands. Most had never set foot on an airplane before. I watched a little girl frozen at the bottom of the blue Pan Am stairs, terrified by the sound from the engines, clinging to her father's pants.

They arrived in small, quiet groups—Southeast Asian refugees, some with babies strapped to their backs in cloth carriers, others with hollow eyes that spoke of horrors we couldn't imagine, shepherded by young volunteers wearing International Rescue Committee badges. Each family clutched identical canvas tote bags—stark white with bold blue letters: IRC. Those little bags held their only belongings.

Departing families were issued travel-appropriate Western attire to help them look "presentable" upon arrival in Western countries, as agencies knew first impressions could affect how refugees were treated in their new communities. They wore mostly outdated Western-style clothing donated by IRC and faith-based charities: button-up shirts and slacks for men, modest dresses or blouses and skirts for women, along with light jackets or sweaters for the cooler U.S. weather—and secondhand shoes or sandals with socks.

Once on board, we helped them settle into the back rows of seats. The cabin smelled faintly of unfamiliar spices and wood smoke, as if the journey from the camps in Thailand had come with them. I heard many utter a quiet "Cảm ơn" or "thank you" when I showed them how to fasten their seat belts.

During takeoff, many passengers gasped or cried softly as we left the ground. The children’s eyes were wide, torn between wonder and fear. For the adults, the roar of takeoff symbolized both hope and heartbreaking finality. Would they ever see their war-torn homeland again?

After leveling off, we prepared to serve them special rice dishes, which they were more familiar with than our Western foods. We poured them cups of tea, in which some put their wrapped pat of butter. I had read that the Nepalese drank yak butter tea, so I wasn’t sure if that was intentional or if they just didn’t know what butter was.

A young mother with an infant gestured for help in warming a bottle. I carried it to the galley, and when I returned, she bowed her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. They were all so shy, timid, extremely polite, and very grateful. I gave the children plastic Pan Am wing pins, providing a fleeting moment of joy on their frightening and emotional journey.

Some passengers dozed fitfully, jolting awake with every bump of turbulence, while others sat stiff and silent for hours, clutching the IRC bags in their laps like life preservers. These bags were distributed in the refugee camps as part of their travel preparation. The bags contained essential documents like I-94 forms, medical records, sponsorship papers, and a few personal items, such as photos, traditional clothing, or a family keepsake.

As we approached Los Angeles, the dawn light broke over the Pacific, flooding the cabin in gold. For the first time, I saw faint smiles and heard whispers of excitement. The volunteers moved through the aisles, explaining what would happen at the airport: there would be men and women waiting to welcome them, take them to homes, and help them start over.

When we landed at LAX, the plane erupted in applause—a soft, scattered clapping of relief and disbelief. As we taxied to the gate, I looked out at the tarmac, where a group of Americans waited with blankets, signs, and stuffed animals. I took a deep breath, trying to hold back my tears.

I had always loved flying because it connected people and places. But on those flights, I understood that an airplane could carry not just passengers but entire futures.

 

Éamonn Mac Coistealbha – Gaeilgeoir go Smior!

Éamonn Mac Coistealbha – An Irish Speaker to the Marrow!

Éamonn Mac Coistealbha – An Irish Speaker to the Marrow!

Teacher, Mentor, Irish Speaker

We had Éamonn Mac Coistealbha as our Irish teacher in second and third year at St Kieran's College, right up to the Junior Certificate. I was extremely fortunate, I must say, as I had excellent Irish teachers at the College. Éamonn was no exception. He was an Irish speaker to the marrow, who had not only a BA in Celtic Studies, but also an MA from Maynooth College. Éamonn attended St Kieran's College as a student, and returned as an Irish teacher in 1939. I think he was a mentor to most of the other Irish teachers in the school, including my father, who all had great respect for him.

A Strong Foundation in Irish

It's very important when you're learning any subject to have a good foundation. Without that, it's difficult to progress to learning more difficult things. I think that basic Irish is the most difficult subject to teach and to learn. Repetition and practice must be done again and again until you don't have to think about it. You're able to learn more interesting things after that – read wonderful books, have conversations on many topics, and so on.

Stone by Stone, Step by Step

Students who attended other schools said how difficult it was for them to learn Irish. But that wasn't the case for us at St Kieran's College at all. I didn't fully understand why at the time, but later I realised we had a high-calibre teacher. Éamonn was able to improve our knowledge, stone by stone, step by step, giving simple answers to our questions, and focusing on the important principles when we were ready. Éamonn was on the learning journey with us, working hand in hand (with us).

Éamonn was a patient, reasonable man, and a man who always listened to us. You have to take into account that Éamonn had a long curriculum to teach us for the Junior Certificate, and pressure on himself to finish it in time. There were teachers who taught their subjects at lightning speed. But perhaps they were the only ones who understood what they were teaching – we couldn't keep up with them in class at all.

Solid to the End

I don't remember when I first heard that Éamonn was very ill. But I remember that he would cough badly from time to time in class. Despite his poor health, Éamonn continued teaching right up to 1974, when he passed away.

Éamonn was a fine example to us. He never used the cane on us, never looked down on us, and always listened to us. He treated us well, and we had great respect for Éamonn because of that.

I will never forget Éamonn Mac Coistealbha. I use Irish in my own life every day, and I am grateful to that great man, Éamonn Mac Coistealbha, for what I learned from him all those long years ago.

Excerpt from his Obituary

There is no better way to conclude than with an excerpt from his obituary written by a fellow teacher at the school:

He was a man who devoted himself to his work always and never neglected any task he undertook. Teaching is often a thankless task, but that wasn't the case with Éamonn — his former students are forever grateful, understanding that they learned from him not only Irish but insight and wisdom about their own lives. He had a special interest in every aspect of College life — in every activity, in sports matters, in the boys' development overall. He was loyal to his people and to his parish, and was a committed member of the St Vincent de Paul Society in Kilkenny.

He was a truly generous, charitable person — a man from the country and of the country — who wanted nothing as respite from the cares of the world but a winter's day outdoors with his gun and his dog, or a golden August day by the western shore with his family. His death is a cruel blow to his wife and family, and a great loss to the College with the passing of this noble Christian. It is also a personal grief to those of us who worked many long years with him — we have lost a true friend. May God grant eternal rest to his soul and consolation to his wife and family.

 

Aistear Neamhghnách Mac an tSiúinéara!

The Extraordinary Journey of the Carpenter's Son!

John Ireland, Kilkenny Hero on the Minnesota Prairie

Would you believe that a man from Burnchurch in County Kilkenny achieved fame and renown as far from home as the United States in the 19th century? It happened. It's no surprise for someone who held a tremendous number of important positions during his life - as a brave soldier in the American Civil War, as a priest, as a bishop, as the first archbishop of Minnesota, and as creator of an Irish community numbering in the thousands.

The name of that famous man? His name was John Ireland, a native son of County Kilkenny.

A Boy in the County of the Cats

John Ireland was born on September 11, 1838 in Burnchurch. His father Richard was a carpenter who had six children. We don't have much information about Richard's wife and John's mother - Julia Ireland (née Naughton).

The Catholics of the country, the Ireland family included, were still under the control of the British Empire and had no economic stability. They had to pay punitive taxes for the benefit of the Church of Ireland. Strict land laws were also in force for tenant farmers. That's what led to the Battle of Carrickshock (1831), a nearby place, when tenants ambushed the police—a vivid illustration of the inhumane system that existed for the Catholic population.

Father Theobald Matthew, founder of the Catholic Total Abstinence Union, had a strong influence on young John who served him as an altar boy. His message about abstaining from alcohol as a way to improve workers' lives deeply affected the boy's character.

Emigration and a New Beginning

After the Great Famine, Richard Ireland went to America with a group of emigrants in 1849. His wife and children followed him later that year. They settled first in Vermont, and then in Chicago in 1851.

More exploration lay ahead of them. Richard met John Gorman, another man from Kilkenny. They pooled their resources and brought their families forward to Minnesota, reaching St. Paul in May 1852. By the following year, they had land and houses—a dream that would have been impossible for them in Ireland.

Meanwhile, Bishop Joseph Cretin had a major administrative problem in the large diocese of Minnesota. He recruited John Ireland and Thomas Gorman (John's son) for the priesthood. In 1853, the two young men went for eight years to Meximieux in France, to attend the petit séminaire, the same school that Cretin had attended earlier.

Priest, Soldier, and Entrepreneur

John returned to Minnesota in 1861 and was ordained in St. Paul. Shortly thereafter, he joined the Fifth Minnesota Volunteer Regiment as a chaplain during the Civil War. For two years, he cared for wounded soldiers and celebrated Mass while they were under attack.

By 1875, he was appointed coadjutor bishop of St. Paul. When he saw Irish immigrants packed into urban slums, he strongly believed that they needed farmland to achieve their independence and dignity. Therefore, he established the St. Paul Catholic Colonization Bureau in 1876.

It was a clever plan:

  • it provided affordable land to Irish families,
  • the railroads got new customers,
  • and the Catholic population in the diocese increased.

New towns were founded with Irish names—Clontarf, Avoca, Iona—in the heart of Minnesota.

The Archbishop and National Influence

In 1884, despite having no staff or major resources, John announced that he was going to establish a Catholic high school. St. Thomas Aquinas High School opened in September 1885. Universities and other schools soon followed, including the University of St. Thomas and institutions in Washington DC.

In 1888, the diocese of St. Paul received archdiocese status and John Ireland was appointed its first Archbishop. He promoted progressive views on the national stage—particularly regarding equality for African Americans and against discrimination based on race or religion.

He completed the construction of the great Cathedral of St. Paul on the highest point in the city—publicly announcing that the Catholic population of Minnesota could no longer be ignored.

The Archbishop died on September 25, 1918, with his old friend, Bishop Thomas Gorman, and his sister, Mother Seraphine, present.

A Legacy that would shape Generations

In the end, John Ireland closed the circle of his life. He remained faithful to the values he heard in Burnchurch—land ownership, temperance, and education. From the quiet fields of Kilkenny to the wide frontier of Minnesota, he spent his life fulfilling the promise of his youth, and leaving a rich legacy that would inspire Irish and American generations long after him.

 

 

Leorghníomh aithreachais!

An Act of Reparation!

A group of people gathered together beside a lake on a very cold day in October in northern Wisconsin. There was a carpet of multicoloured leaves on the ground. Both nuns and Native Americans from the Lac du Flambeau Band were present.

During the ceremony, the nuns gave the land title to the delegation of Indigenous people. What was involved was two acres of land, which included a cluster of cabins, and a house called the Marywood Franciscan Spirituality Centre. The sale price: $30,000, exactly the amount the order of nuns paid for it 60 years ago. Its valuation today? Around $2.6 million.

In contrast to the land acknowledgement that is common at meetings on stolen land and which is nothing more than a symbolic confession, this was the real thing: the first known case of a Catholic institution in the United States voluntarily returning land to a tribe as an act of reparation.

"We wanted to do more than just say we were sorry."

Sister Eileen McKenzie, president of the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration (FSPA), told reporters that the order had spent two years researching the history of the land. They learned that the property was on the traditional territory of the Lac du Flambeau Band, from whom land was stolen through broken treaties.

"We wanted to do more than just say we were sorry," she said. "We wanted to change the story, even in a small way."

The nuns made the decision after painful reflection. FSPA helped run a Catholic boarding school that separated Indigenous children from their families and their culture. That is a shameful legacy not only for FSPA but for Catholics and Protestants throughout North America, as unmarked graves are still being found in every corner of the continent.

"It felt right to give something back," McKenzie said. "This land wasn't ours to begin with anyway."

An emotional homecoming with fond memories

For the Lac du Flambeau Band, there was deep emotion associated with the moment. Tribal President John Johnson Sr. called the act "a step toward restoring balance."

He spoke about elders who remember fishing on that same lake, and about the old paths that used to go through the forests. "When you return to land that knows your name, you feel something inside settling," he said. "That's not a question of ownership. There's a deep connection between our tribe and this place."

The tribe intends to keep the property as a place for healing and cultural renewal — a place where people can gather, stories can be told, and ceremonies can be held on land that is once again under their care.

"It's like a circle closing," Johnson said. "The land remembers us, and now we can remember it."

The quiet revolution called 'Land Back'

Throughout the United States, a growing movement called 'Land Back' is challenging the concept of land ownership. It's considered a critically important effort, and tribes and allies are negotiating, fundraising, and sometimes going to court to reclaim ancestral lands.

What's most striking about this story is the way it happened. It wasn't a government order or a court settlement — but a group of elderly nuns who decided among themselves to do the right thing.

"This changes the moral temperature," said historian and Indigenous rights advocate Nick Estes, who has written extensively on the Land Back movement. "When you see people of faith — people whose institutions benefited from our dispossession — voluntarily giving land back, it opens hearts and possibilities."

More important than just the land

Land is just earth and trees. But for Indigenous Nations, there's memory, language, law, and identity in it. Their culture and the land are interwoven. When they get even a small piece back like this, it makes a huge difference to them, because it begins the reversal of the loss.

Sociologist Dr. Danielle SeeWalker, who studies Indigenous reconciliation efforts, put it simply: "Each acre that's returned is like a heartbeat restarting. You can't measure that in dollars."

For the nuns of FSPA, returning their land to the tribe is an important step. "Francis of Assisi taught us to repair what is broken," Sister McKenzie said. "In this era, perhaps this is what is broken and needs repairing."

A sign, not an ending

This is unlikely to be the end of the story. It's reported that other Catholic communities are doing deep reflection on their own role regarding boarding schools and the land associated with them.

Questions have been put to both the Jesuits and the Benedictines about property that was connected to missions or schools for Indigenous children.

Legal experts believe that voluntary acts like this could influence public policy — showing that reparative transfers like this can be done without ten years in the courts. "An act of reparation like this can be viewed as an act of relationship instead of a political fight," said one law professor.

But the nuns themselves insist they're not seeking praise. "We're not heroes," McKenzie said. "We listened, that's all."

Conclusion

When the ceremony ended, the group formed a small circle, passing around a wooden bowl full of water from the lake. An elder of the tribe blessed the site in his native language - Ojibwe - and the nuns sang a Franciscan hymn. The wind carried their voices over the trees and up into the sky, spreading the hopeful message across the world, without limit, without restraint.

In a country full of empty promises and where money is a false God, an act like this is rare. But by setting down a single example, it's likely that the small group on the edge of the lake has begun inspiring a new movement that will be far greater than they know.

As you reflect on this, think about how we ourselves can do acts like this that will give support to minority and disadvantaged groups in our own country - groups like legal immigrants and the Travelling community.

And we can always support efforts that will promote the Irish language and the preservation of our culture. Look at what President Catherine Connolly is doing in Áras an Uachtaráin, for example, regarding the use of the language.

Finally, in the famous words of Margaret Mead: Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.

 

 

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